


to be loved and to be in love

by existentialhomosexual



Category: Hot Guy P.I. (Webcomic)
Genre: Ace Aro Daniella, Aromantic Character, Asexual Character, Character Study, Demisexual Schmidt, Established Relationship, Family Bonding, Idiots in Love, M/M, Meeting the Family, Other, it's not explicitly stated but he is demi, queer bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 07:20:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28467444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/existentialhomosexual/pseuds/existentialhomosexual
Summary: Schmidt's never been introduced to a partner's family before. He's never felt that anxiety, never felt that specific brand of worry - except Nando is looking at him and Nando 100% just asked him to come to Daniella's apartment for dinner and oh no, oh God, what has Schmidt gotten himself into?(or: i tried to write a schmando story and ended up writing a love letter to non-romantic love)
Relationships: Nando Sy & Daniella, Nando Sy & Nadia Sy Flores, Schmidt & Daniella, Schmidt & Nando Sy, Schmidt/Nando Sy
Comments: 7
Kudos: 57





	to be loved and to be in love

**Author's Note:**

> all my thanks to karina farek, for writing these characters and giving me a universe to work with! also, thanks to draz for letting me throw ideas at you for weeks on end and for helping me figure out how the fuck this story was going to pan out. 
> 
> (title from "18" by one direction)
> 
> basically, i started this wanting to write a story about schmidt and nadia's relationship, and how that grew. and then, as i wrote, it evolved into my acearo self-indulgent nightmare about relationships and non-romantic love and queer trauma bonding, etc. what can i say, i love ace/aro spectrum characters

“I just don’t understand why you’re so nervous about this, Schmidt.”

“I’m meeting my _boyfriend’s family_ , Nando. I’ve never done this before. I have literally never been in a relationship before, Nando.”

“It’s not like you’re meeting my parents or anything. You’re meeting my 14 year old daughter and her mother. Stop worrying. They’ll like you.” Schmidt slides down the passenger’s seat, groaning loudly.

“Don’t try to downplay this. This is more important than your parents. You literally call Daniella your soulmate. And Nadia’s your _kid_ , Nando. What if she thinks I’m lame? What if she makes fun of me to her friends?” Nando parks the car neatly in the driveway and turns his body in the seat. He reaches out to Schmidt and grabs his face between his hands.

“Schmidt, honey, you _are_ lame.” He kisses Schmidt’s forehead, ignoring his spluttering, and opens the car door.

*****************************************************************************************************************************************************

Daniella’s apartment is small and comfy, a third floor walkup in Bed-Stuy, and Nando can feel the stress melt out of his body as he enters. It smells like incense and something that he’s never been able to quite place but has clung to Daniella her entire life, and it reminds him of being young. Nadia shouts from the kitchen as the door hits the wall behind it, still creaky and loose on the hinges like it has been since Daniella moved in after she and Nando stopped being able to live together, back when Nadia was young. It sounds like a song. Daniella’s on the couch in the miniscule living room, a blanket that Nando’s mom knitted for him (that she stole when they stopped dating) strewn over her legs, and he still loves her a bit more every time he sees her.

“Putting our child to work as always, I see.” He remarks. He falls backwards onto the couch on top of her, landing on top of her legs. She reaches down and flicks him on the forehead and then lifts her legs so that he falls onto the floor with a thud. The downstairs neighbor (whose name they still haven’t learned, even after all these years) shouts what sounds like it could be a curse in what may be Russian or perhaps Ukranian, but it’s hard to tell when it’s being shouted through a floor.

“She asked to make dinner tonight, asshat. Guess she wants to impress your man friend.” Daniella crosses her legs on top of his side as he lays in a heap on the ground. “Where is he? I thought you drove him. All your bitching about his lack of car and all that.”

“I left him wheezing somewhere around the second floor. I guess he’s dead now,” he shoots back. “Oh well. So sad. More food for me.” There’s a knock on the door; hesitant, but a beat Nando knows by heart. “Oh, my stars! He’s alive! He’s come back for me!” he cries, and melodramatically faints on the ground. Daniella flicks him again.

“I’VE GOT IT. I’M GETTING IT.” Nadia announces as she barges in from the kitchen, making sure to kick Nando as she passes. “Do NOT embarrass me, Dad.”

She opens the door a sliver and peeks out, then squeaks and slams the door shut.

“I DON’T GOT IT.” She turns tail and dashes back into the kitchen, bright red. Daniella barks out a laugh.

“You can come in,” she calls through the door. “Don’t let Nadia scare you.” The door cracks slightly to reveal Schmidt, bright red and flustered. He’s panting a little, holding a bottle of wine that he brought with him (despite Nando telling him that he definitely didn’t have to bring anything). His eyes land on Nando crumpled on the ground with Daniella on top of him and widen a little. Daniella pushes herself off the couch, forcing her feet into Nando as she does (“Get _off_ of me, you demon!”) and extends her hand towards Schmidt.

“I’m Daniella. The one that slammed the door in your face is Nadia. Fernando over there has told me all about you, lover boy, and I’ll bet a million bucks he’s told you all about us, too.” He shakes her hand tentatively and she uses the grip to pull him into the apartment, straight into a hug. Her hold on him is firm, and he is tense as he makes eye contact with Nando, still sprawled on the carpet.

“ _Help me!_ ” Schmidt mouths. Nando smiles up at him, a blinding grin, and then groans to his feet.

“You should show him the digs,” he tells Daniella. “And I’ll go check on the child.” He smacks a kiss on Daniella’s nose and then on Schmidt’s, the two still embracing, and sets off towards Nadia’s room in the back of the apartment. “Don’t fuck him up too bad, hey?”

*****************************************************************************************************************************************************

Daniella is not a tall woman (Schmidt towers over her) and she has lines on her face like she’s spent her whole life smiling. Schmidt is terrified of her. She leads him into the kitchen, her apartment homey like his has never been. There’s something cooking in a covered pot on the stove; he doesn’t recognize it, but he sure as hell wants to eat it.

“Schmidt, sit down,” she orders, in a completely non-threatening way, and he sits at the table crammed halfway between the kitchen and the living room. “What do you want to drink?” From his seat, he can see the entire kitchen, the report cards on the fridge and the family photos and a shopping list written in two different handwritings, one of which he recognizes as Nando’s. Daniella doesn’t sit, instead leaning up against the counter across from him.

“You’re nervous. Meeting new people? Because of me and Nando’s relationship? Because of Nadia? All of the above?”

Schmidt blinks, turns his head to look in the direction Nando had gone, looks back at Daniella. “Uh. Water is fine, thank you. And, uh. I’ll go with option D, there.” As she hands him a glass (a mug from that one queer church in Manhattan; Schmidt doesn’t remember the name but he sure knows the logo) she resumes her position against the counter and looks him up and down.

“What are you most afraid of?” she asks. _Well_ , he thinks, _this is certainly forward for someone I’ve just met_. “In this situation, I mean.” He swallows, looking literally anywhere other than Daniella’s face.

“Well. For one, I’ve never met a partner’s family before,” he starts, haltingly. If she wants to get into it, he will, but he’s never been _great_ at sharing his feelings. Daniella is terrifying and comforting in equal measure, and she’s the best friend of the man he loves (he’s not afraid to say it in his head), so it’s not like she’s someone who won’t learn this shit eventually. “Um. And on top of that, he has _you_. And I mean, this house certainly looks like the house of a couple with a child - not that I’m doubting Nando! But this is, like. This looks like a place where he lives with his family and I feel out of place in his _own_ apartment, let alone here at yours.”

She nods, looking wiser than Schmidt expects to be even at 60, and he remembers a meme that he’d seen somewhere about queer people and bonding over trauma.

“Do you know why me and Nando broke up?” Schmidt does not. He shakes his head. Nando had told him, mostly, that they were better off as friends, and that was that. She shrugs, looks down, puts her hands in the pockets of her jeans.

“Well. We grew up together, you know? We were friends forever. And I loved him, right? So when we got older it was easy for us to be together. We were happy together. I loved being with him, I loved living with him, and, and then we got stupid, and reckless, and then I was pregnant. We were so young, Schmidt, we were 18, but we loved that kid so much. I mean, I can’t imagine Romeo hasn’t told you about Nadia. He’s incredible with her.” He had, in fact, spent about an hour and a half telling Schmidt all about Nadia the week before, so Schmidt nods.

For the first time since he had walked into her apartment, she seems to fumble with her words. “When... when Nadia was born I loved her more than anything else in the world. And... and when she was young I learned a lot about myself. I, uh, I realized that I loved Fernando as a friend, and... and... just, not romantically. I didn’t love him romantically, and I had just convinced myself that I had because I loved him so much and he had been there my entire life and everyone had told me my entire life that I’d marry a man and that I’d marry him. And he was so supportive of me, Schmidt. He’s never once left my side throughout this, when I told him I thought I might be a lesbian, when I told him I was aromantic, when I told him I was asexual. Um. This has been a lot, and I’m just saying this to say, uh, you don’t have to worry about me, and you don’t have to worry about Nando, because no matter what that man will stick with you.” Daniella finishes quickly, and turns to face the stove, her skin tinged with a blush.

Schmidt blinks.

He looks down at his hands for a second, which he had clenched into fists at some point while Daniella spoke. He clears his throat, and opens his mouth to speak.

Nando peeks his head around the corner next to Schmidt and Schmidt slams his mouth shut instantly. For some reason, opening up in front of Nando feels scarier than it does in front of Daniella.

“Dani, the child wants to know when food will be ready,” Nando states, and runs his hand through Schmidt’s hair. Schmidt ducks out of the way and smacks his hand.

Daniella, stirring the pot on the stove, says, “I don’t know, 15, 20 minutes? We were talking, you cretin. Go talk about BTS with Nadia or something, God knows we could all do with understanding her interests more.” Nando sputters a second before acquiescing, as he is wont to do; Schmidt knows he’s only protesting for effect. Daniella blows a kiss at Nando and waves him away.

From around the corner Schmidt hears a door open and then Nando saying, “Mom says 20 minutes, kiddo. Now, uh, what is... a bias?” Daniella laughs a bit, looking over where Nando had disappeared.

“I love that man. You know? I love him.”

“I’ve never been in a relationship before,” Schmidt blurts out. “I’ve never been in a relationship before and I’ve never felt anything like I feel for him and it scares me that he has you and Nadia because I barely even have a family and he has so many people. Like you said, I just... I always assumed I’d marry a woman, and I never felt anything for anyone at all, and I felt like I was broken, I guess. Like, I was thinking it was going to be me, doing my model shit or whatever, and then Nando came in and fucked it up and I’m so afraid of you and Nadia because I’ve never had anything like this.”

“Oh, honey. Oh, baby. Can I hug you?” she asks him, kind, but without pity. He doesn’t like pity. He nods, dipping his head just a little, and she wraps him in her arms. The hug is tight and it’s been years since he was hugged by someone that he didn’t feel like he owed something to, even if it was just Nando or Jenny, his closest friend. She presses her head against his and murmurs into his ear.

“It’s okay, Schmidt. You’re okay. You’re not broken, you’re not wrong. There’s nothing wrong with you.” He’s never told anyone this, always had his armour of tailored clothing and superficial stoicism to hide behind, but she’s... Daniella is _like him_ , and he is powerless in her arms. She pulls back and wipes her thumbs across his cheeks.

“Well. Now that that’s off your chest, how about we bully our man over dinner by making him teach us about the bands Nadia likes while she laughs at him?” He laughs, feels the sheer panic inside him recede a little, and nods.

“Shall we?”

*****************************************************************************************************************************************************

Nadia is sitting on her bed, staring at the door as he enters. If Nando had to guess, he’d say she was waiting for him or Daniella to come.

“What’s up?” he asks her, trying his best to toe the line between gentle but not pitying. He’s only 32, not even 20 years since he was 14 like her, and he knows what it’s like to be pitied by the people around you.

“Dad. DAD. _DAD_. You didn’t tell me he’s HOT.” She pivots to face the wall.

“Oh, someone has a little _crushhhhh_ ,” he singsongs. She smacks him - surprisingly hard - with her pillow without ever turning to face him.

“I’m going to embarrass myself. I’m going to embarrass myself and then he’ll leave and never want to see me again. Dad, you didn’t tell me he’s so _cool_.”

Nando sits. He folds his legs underneath him on the floor and leans back against the wall.

“Well, kiddo. Do you remember back when I first started working with Schmidt and I had that gnarly cut on my leg and I wouldn’t tell you what it was from because I told you it wasn’t important?” She nods once, solemnly.

“I... got into a knife fight with Watson. And Schmidt was there. And he was terrified of the dog because the dog had a knife, and he cried, and then the dog cut me with the knife, and then I had to suplex the dog. It was an embarrassing day for both of us.” He peers over at her, hoping to see a smile on her face, or at the very least less stress. She giggles.

If you had asked Nando that morning how he thought the night would go, he would not have pictured himself here, seated on the floor of his daughter’s bedroom, trying to comfort her because she thinks her father’s boyfriend is too _hot_ and _cool_ , but here he is.

She scoots to the side, a gentle invitation, and Nando obliges. He unfolds himself from the floor and settles on the bed next to his daughter. God, his daughter, and his boyfriend is out in the living room with his best friend. He looks down at Nadia next to him and she scoffs.

“Stop getting gross and sentimental, old man.” He laughs out loud and kisses her forehead.

“Look, kid. I know it’s mostly just been me and you and your mom before now. I know this is _weird as hell_. I love you a lot, and your feelings matter to me in this whole situation.” Nadia opens her mouth and he shushes her gently.

“Hear me out, kiddo. I know your stress was because he’s cooler than you expected, but I know this is going to be a weird dynamic shift for us. You’re meeting your dad’s boyfriend. There’s a new person potentially in the family. It’s different and scary and I want you to know you can tell me literally anything that you feel about this. If it’s only that he’s too cool and that’s terrifying, well, I agree and thank you for sharing your thoughts. If it’s deeper than that, I want you to be able to tell me that.” She burrows into his side in a hug.

“I want to go talk to him more. When’s dinner?” she asks, muffled by his clothing.

“Free me, tiny fiend, and I’ll go ask.”


End file.
